Front Runner

2356 AD

Endurance, Mars, Union of Inner Planets

"Please state your name, date of birth, and registration number."

"Rosco Vern, October 9th, 2327, registration number DX943028." Rosco replied, standing before the towering machine that loomed over him, its sleek panels reflecting the harsh, sterile light of the facility.

This was the final step before Rosco’s induction would be finalized.

"Rosco Vern, welcome and thank you for your interest in this program. The following process is for the purpose of finalizing your admission into the Front Runner Initiative. Your consent will be required a total of five times. It will be measured based on your responses to the following questions in conjunction with neural data transmitted via your Link. If you wish to proceed, give your first consent at this time."

Rosco nodded, his voice calm but firm. "I consent and wish to continue."

"Participants in the Front Runner Initiative will submit themselves as part of a crew which will depart from this solar system at relativistic speeds. You will likely never return to this planet, and in the case that you do, the relativistic effects of the travel mechanism will have caused tens of thousands, if not millions of years, to pass from the local frame of reference. Do you understand and would you like to give your secondary consent?"

"I understand." Rosco said without hesitation. “I give my secondary consent." The machine paused briefly, its processors humming as it continued.

"Entropy cannot be reversed, and thus once a moment has passed, it will never return. Please confirm your awareness of this fact."

"I understand the nature of entropy and its implications in regards to the reversal of time. I give my consent."

Another pause, as if the machine was considering his responses.

"The voyage will consist of thirty relativistic space vessels, each capable of carrying a crew of fifteen hundred. These vessels will depart at different times based on their assigned function within the initiative. Vessels will adjust speed and heading to rendezvous at predetermined spacetime coordinates, where colonies will be established. Your placement in the initiative has been decided as follows:

Vessel: Invictus

Assignment: Calculations Division

Designation: Officer

If you consent to this placement, please make it known at this time."

Rosco’s face hardened. "I understand and consent to my placement."

"Thank you." The machine continued, its cold, mechanical voice giving way to the final question. "We appreciate your willingness to participate in this program. As a final measure of your consent, please comment briefly on your motivation behind joining this initiative."

For the first time in the process, Rosco hesitated. The question hit deeper than the others. He took a breath, collecting his thoughts. "I want to be part of something I can be proud of—something different, something better. I believe this initiative is a chance to help build a new and better way of life for our species."

There was a long pause, the machine processing his response. "Consent Verified. Please proceed to transit." Rosco exhaled, feeling the tension release from his shoulders. It was done. He had been accepted. The weight that had been pressing down on him for so long was lifted, and now only the future lay ahead.

He left the cold, sterile room behind and walked into a much larger waiting area.

Upon entering, he quickly scanned the room to see a group of recruits, fresh from their own consent processes, sat in quiet anticipation. Their expressions were a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and the occasional forced calm. Rosco, on the other hand, felt steady. He had made his decision long ago, and there was no hesitation now.

He found an open seat and settled into it, the hum of the facility faint in the background. Not long after, a tall, gangly young man took the seat next to him, his movements casual, almost too relaxed for someone about to embark on a one-way journey into the stars. The man had a boyish face, messy hair, and an air of nonchalance that Rosco immediately picked up on.

"Hey." The young man greeted, sticking out a hand with a loose grin. "Name’s Amadeus. You just finish up too?"

Rosco nodded, shaking his hand. "Yeah. Rosco Vern. Good to meet you."

Amadeus gave a quick nod, but his smile wavered slightly as he sat back in his seat. "Man, I gotta be honest—I’m nervous as hell about all this."

Rosco raised an eyebrow. "Nervous? You made it through the process, right?"

"Yeah, but… I don’t know, man." Amadeus admitted, scratching the back of his head. "I’m not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. My work history’s a mess. I’ve bounced from job to job ever since I left Earth—barely scraped by. Hell, I didn’t even think I’d get accepted for this. I’m still kinda waiting for someone to tell me there’s been a mistake."

Rosco glanced over at him, his expression softening. "So why’d you join?"

Amadeus shrugged, looking down at his hands. "It felt like a chance to start over, you know? A clean slate. I couldn’t pass up the adventure of traveling through interstellar space, either. How many people get to say they’re part of something like this? I figured… maybe this is where I’ll finally clean myself up."

Rosco studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod of understanding. "You’re not the only one who wants a fresh start."

Amadeus looked up, curious. "Is that what you’re after then, a fresh start?"

Rosco chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, that’s not it for me. I just think things here in the Union are…I guess I would say broken. Everything’s about profit margins and military power, and that’s not how I see humanity."

He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "I believe people are inherently good. Things have just gotten convoluted though, I think we just need a reset. That’s what I think this initiative is—our chance to build something better from the ground up. That’s why I joined."

There was a brief silence as Amadeus absorbed his words. Rosco’s confidence was palpable, the kind that came from knowing exactly what you were getting into.

"You sound a hell of a lot more sure about this than I do." Amadeus muttered with a half-laugh. "What’d you do before this?"

"I’m a physicist." Rosco answered simply. "Born on Mars. Worked a few solid research jobs here and there. Things were pretty good for a while…but when things started getting tense with the Jovians again, labs that were once focused on real, well-intentioned research started competing for government contracts to build weapons. My lab was no different. I couldn’t make myself be a part of it though…so I quit—left it all behind."

He glanced over at Amadeus, his voice quiet but steady. "I’ve known for a while now that the future of humanity isn’t in this system—it’s out there in the stars."

Amadeus nodded, though he still looked a little uneasy. "I guess I never thought about it that deeply. I just figured the initiative was a way out, something different. I actually heard about it from an employment officer back on Earth. He said I wasn’t smart enough to get a job in the Union—told me I might as well sign up for a one way trip out of it instead." He laughed, but there was a touch of bitterness in his voice. "Pissed me off at first, but then I looked into it and… well, here I am."

Rosco smirked. "Doesn’t sound like the most glowing recommendation, but you made it. That’s what matters."

"Yeah, barely." Amadeus rubbed his hands together, fidgeting slightly. "But you… I bet it was different for you. How’d you hear about the Initiative?"

Rosco’s eyes darkened slightly, a look of reverence crossing his face. "Isaac Wycliffe."

"The guy who started all this?" Amadeus asked, intrigued. "I mean, I’ve heard his name but… What did he do again?"

Rosco leaned forward, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I guess I’ve always looked up to him. He’s dedicated his whole life to making a difference for humanity. I’m sure you’ve heard about what he did during the war—how he tried to save Europa.”

Amadeus listened intently. “Yeah, I know the story. He was there when Mateo Diaz destroyed the Slingshot, right?”

Rosco nodded, “That’s right, and after all of that, he went on to spend the next twenty years building up a good relationship with the Jovians. The work he put into diplomacy with the Jovians is the only reason this initiative was possible—hell, it might be the only reason we’re not at war right now.” Rosco looked out through the large glass panels that revealed the Martian landscape beyond. "That’s why for me, this isn’t just a one way journey into space—it’s the fulfillment of a shared dream."

Amadeus was quiet for a moment, the weight of Rosco’s words settling over him.

"You’re really passionate about this, aren’t you?"

"I am." Rosco replied with conviction.

Suddenly, a ping came through, piercing through the intensity, “Please proceed to the departure bay. We will shortly be transiting to the orbital platform.”

As the announcement echoed through the waiting area, the recruits began to file out of the room and head toward the departure bay. Rosco walked alongside Amadeus, the energy around them shifting, a nervous excitement rippling through the group as they moved. This was it—the first step in what would be a long journey.

The departure bay was enormous, an engineering marvel built into the jagged Martian landscape. Rosco couldn’t help but glance up at the vast, reinforced ceiling panels, where the sky above was barely visible through the protective layers of steel and glass. A series of sleek, white transit modules were lined up along the edge of the bay, their exteriors freshly cleaned of Martian soil.

“This feels more real now, doesn’t it?” Amadeus muttered beside him, his voice a mixture of wonder and nerves. “I mean, we’re really about to leave this place.”

Rosco nodded, though his attention was fixed on the sight before them. The modules, each no bigger than a typical transport shuttle, were capable of rapid ascension from the Martian surface to low orbit. Their exteriors shimmered under the artificial light, giving them an almost ethereal quality.

"It’ll feel even more real once we’re off the ground." Rosco replied, glancing toward the nearest module.

As they approached, a series of large doors opened with a hiss, revealing the interiors of the modules. Rows of seats lined the narrow cabin, each fitted with restraint systems to secure passengers during takeoff. The recruits quickly boarded, finding their places. Rosco and Amadeus settled into adjacent seats near the back of their module, strapping themselves in as the final boarding procedures began.

The cabin filled with a low hum as the module powered up, the whir of the engines gradually building in intensity. Rosco felt the subtle vibration beneath his feet, a reminder that this was no ordinary shuttle. This was a leap into the unknown.

Amadeus peered out the small window beside him, his expression shifting between awe and disbelief. “You think we’ll miss it?” he asked softly.

Rosco followed his gaze, his eyes scanning the vast Martian landscape outside. The red-orange dunes stretched out endlessly beneath the module, undulating like waves frozen in time. Towering ridges and deep, scarred valleys marked the terrain, the result of millennia of erosion and planetary change. It was an ancient world, yet still brimming with potential.

“No.” Rosco said after a moment, his voice quiet. “Mars is home, but you can’t stay at home forever.”

Amadeus nodded, though there was a trace of hesitation in his eyes. "Guess you're right. Still hard to wrap my head around the fact that we’re really leaving all of this behind."

The module’s engines roared to life, the sound filling the cabin as the craft began to ascend. Rosco felt the force of acceleration pressing him into his seat, the familiar sensation of liftoff washing over him. Outside the window, the surface of Mars grew smaller with each passing second, the sprawling Union colony of Endurance shrinking into the distance. Soon, the rust-colored hills and barren valleys were nothing more than a blur as they climbed higher into the atmosphere.

As they broke through the thin Martian atmosphere, the view changed dramatically. The endless horizon of red soil was replaced by the inky blackness of space, dotted with distant stars. Rosco leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on the vast emptiness that stretched before them. There was something humbling about it—the realization that, despite all of humanity’s technological advancements, space was still largely unaffected. Humanity, despite all of its ambition and tenacity, had still hardly managed to leave even a single finger print on the galaxy.

Far in the distance, hovering in geostationary orbit, was Mars Orbital Platform 3. The platform was a colossal structure, glimmering like a jewel suspended in the void. Its many docking gates extended outward like the arms of a starfish, each one bustling with activity as ships of all sizes came and went.

“There it is.” Rosco whispered, his voice barely audible.

The platform grew larger as they approached, its metallic surface catching the distant light from the sun. Even from this distance, the scale of the structure was staggering. Rosco had seen images of it before, of course, but seeing it in person was something else entirely. The sheer magnitude of engineering required to construct something so vast, so complex—it was a testament to humanity’s ability to push the limits of what is possible.

Amadeus’ eyes widened as he took in the sight. “I didn’t think it’d be this big.” He said, his voice laced with awe. “It’s like a whole city up here.”

Rosco nodded. “It practically is. They’ve got everything up there—habitats, research labs, even entertainment venues. They originally built this place as an everything destination for ships preparing for deep space travel.”

The module began its approach toward the platform, aligning itself with one of the many docking gates. As they drew nearer, Rosco could make out the details of the ships docked at various gates—cargo freighters, long-haul transport vessels, and military cruisers. But none of them could compare to the Front Runner Fleet which was now entering their view.

Among the dozens of Front Runner vessels, both Rosco and Amadeus’ eyes were quickly drawn to the flagship vessel, Invictus.

Invictus loomed ahead, far larger than anything Rosco had ever seen in space. Its sleek, angular design was a masterpiece of human engineering, built to endure the harshness of space for extended periods. The ship’s exterior was smooth, its dark surface absorbing the light around it, giving it an almost ghostly appearance. It seemed both a part of the stars and a foreign object among them.

Rosco’s breath caught in his throat as the full scale of the vessel came into view. The ship was massive, stretching out like a behemoth, dwarfing the other vessels docked nearby. It was a self-sustaining, fully equipped relativistic space vessel, capable of housing fifteen hundred crew members and operating independently for decades.

"That’s it." Rosco murmured, more to himself than to Amadeus. "That’s where we’re going."

Amadeus leaned forward, pressing his face closer to the window. "It’s huge. I mean… I knew it’d be big, but this is something else."

Rosco smiled faintly, though his mind was racing. The sheer magnitude of the mission—the responsibility they were about to shoulder—started to hit him.

As the module docked with the platform, the recruits disembarked, making their way through the clean, sterile hallways of Orbital Platform 3. Rosco and Amadeus followed the stream of recruits toward the docking bay where Invictus was waiting.

The doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the interior of the ship. The entry bay was vast, its ceilings high, with sleek metallic walls that gleamed under the artificial lighting. The recruits were greeted by the sight of Invictus’ chief commanding officer: Admiral Jin Wang. He stood tall behind a podium, scanning the room full of recruits. His presence was commanding, but not intimidating—there was a calm confidence in his bearing that immediately set the recruits at ease.

He was tall, his posture straight as a spear, his dark eyes surveying the fresh faces before him. His uniform was impeccable, the creases sharp, but his expression, though firm, was not without warmth. He took a moment before speaking, letting the weight of the moment settle over the group.

“Welcome aboard Invictus.” Admiral Wang began, his voice measured, steady. “I know what you’re feeling right now. Excitement, maybe a little fear—and that’s okay. What we’re about to do is bold. And boldness often comes with fear.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room, connecting with as many recruits as he could. “You are about to embark on something that has never been done before. Traveling to the center of the galaxy, beyond anything humanity has ever known. That’s not just bold—it’s downright daunting. And I’m not going to stand here and tell you not to feel that way. What I will tell you, though, is that we can’t let fear define us.”

There was a weight to his words, a sincerity that made the recruits stand a little taller, listen a little closer.

"We have to put on a brave face, not just for ourselves, but for each other. Because there will be moments in this journey when things don’t go according to plan, when the unknown feels overwhelming. And in those moments, we have to dig deep, buckle down, and commit to doing our jobs—not just for ourselves, but for the sake of the entire crew and for posterity. What we do out there will shape the future of humanity. We owe it to everyone who comes after us to do our best.”

Rosco glanced at Amadeus beside him, seeing the young man’s face tense with nerves. But there was something comforting in the admiral’s words—an acknowledgment of the fear that tempered it with responsibility and purpose.

Admiral Wang continued, his tone shifting slightly, becoming more technical but no less personal. “Now, a reminder—many of you already know this, but it’s worth repeating: Traveling at relativistic speeds warps the passage of time. From your perspective, on this ship, the journey will take just a few years. But outside of this ship, for the people back in the solar system, more than 20,000 years will pass.”

The room was silent. Rosco was well versed in the mechanics of relativity, but hearing the numbers put so plainly reminded him just how different their lives would be from the world they knew.

“We have no idea what we’ll find when we reach our first destination,” Admiral Wang said, his voice softening, as if acknowledging the uncertainty they all felt. “The galaxy will have changed in ways we can’t predict. We have to be ready for anything. And we have to rely on each other to face whatever comes next. You’re not just recruits—you’re pioneers. And that means responsibility. It means courage. But most importantly, it means trust. Trust in your crewmates, trust in yourselves, and trust in this mission.”

He let that last thought linger in the air before standing up a little straighter. “You already know your assignments. You’ve trained, you’ve prepared. The onboard locations of your assignments and living quarters are now being sent to your Links.”

Rosco’s neural interface pinged softly as the admiral spoke, and he glanced at the glowing notification in the corner of his vision. He could feel the quiet buzz of anticipation among the recruits as they received their placements, their futures decided in a flash of data.

Turning to Amadeus, Rosco asked, “I guess I haven’t asked you yet, what’s your assignment?”

Amadeus hesitated, his eyes flickering with uncertainty before he sighed. “Colony Construction. I guess I’m in the ‘low-skill’ category.” He tried to laugh, but the self-doubt was clear in his voice. “Sounds about right, yeah?”

Rosco gave him a reassuring nod. “It’s an important role. You’ll be one of the first to touch down, to actually build the places where people will live.”

Amadeus managed a weak smile, though his eyes were still clouded with anxiety. “I guess... But it feels like I’m being thrown in the deep end, you know? I don’t even know what I’m doing, and now I’m supposed to build a colony?”

Rosco placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be given instructions the whole time, and you won’t be alone. We’re in this together, right?”

Amadeus nodded, but Rosco could sense his unease. The bond they’d started to form, however brief, had given Amadeus some stability. Now, with their paths diverging, Rosco could feel the younger man’s apprehension growing.

“We have to report to our stations for the initial briefing.” Rosco said, glancing at the new instructions flashing in his mind. “But we’ll catch up later, alright?”

“Yeah… okay.” Amadeus replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As they parted ways, Rosco could see the uncertainty in Amadeus' eyes. It reminded him of his own first days as a physicist—nervous, eager, and unsure of where he fit in. But now, as he prepared to step into his own role on Invictus, he felt a quiet sense of responsibility. Not just for himself, but for those around him.

Amadeus may have had doubts, but Rosco knew that this mission wasn’t about being the smartest or the most skilled. It was about perseverance, about adapting and pushing through uncertainty.

With one last glance back at his new friend, Rosco squared his shoulders and hastily made his way toward his new work assignment, he found the area where his Link directed him and quickly his credentials granted him access. He stepped through the sliding door and into the Calculations Division’s command room. The room was smaller than he had expected—an intimate space lined with consoles, monitors, and diagnostic panels. The lighting was dim, giving the place a closed-in, almost claustrophobic feel, but that suited the nature of the work they were about to undertake.

He scanned the room. Nine other recruits had gathered, each looking as anxious and curious as he felt. They crowded into the space, glancing nervously at the complex equipment around them. At the far end of the room, standing near the main console, was a tall, thin man wearing round glasses that seemed a size too large for his gaunt face. His hair was disheveled, and his uniform looked like it hadn’t seen a wash in days. Yet there was something about the man’s presence—a quiet, assured air—that suggested he wasn’t one to be underestimated.

“Calculations is the most critical division of the Front Runner Initiative.” The man began without preamble, his voice surprisingly clear despite his bedraggled appearance. “We’re responsible for ensuring the fleet’s successful rendezvous at predetermined time-space coordinates. In other words, we have to make sure everyone gets to the right place at the right time—which is a hell of a lot harder than it sounds, given we’ll be traveling at relativistic speeds.”

He paused, letting that sink in. "My name is Lars Namek, Chief Calculations Officer for Invictus. I know I don't look it, but I’ve spent most of my career studying systems like these, and I expect the best from my team. You—" he gestured to the recruits, "are that team."

Namek adjusted his glasses, which slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose, and continued. "Now, you’ve all been briefed. You know that aligning arrival times while traveling with standard engines can already be a pain in the ass. Out here, and moving at relativistic speeds, it’s a completely different beast. You’re going to be working alongside Non-Independent Intelligence Protocols. The Initiative pushed hard to get us special permission to onboard Independent Intelligence Protocols, but the Union refused to make an exception. After Europa, they refuse to allow it, not once not ever. Lucky for us, Non-Independent Intelligence Protocols are pretty smart these days. They can even operate independently in certain emergency circumstances. They will handle most of the calculations for us, but every leg of their work has to be checked and approved by humans. That’s where you come in—you’ll be double- and triple-checking their work, catching the small deviations, and ensuring we don’t drift into some black hole or tear ourselves apart in the process.”

Rosco felt the weight of that responsibility settle over him. It was one thing to be told you were joining the Calculations Division. It was another to realize how much could go wrong.

Before Namek could continue, a man in the middle of the group raised his hand—a sharp, mechanical gesture. He was older, maybe mid-forties, with a stern face and eyes that seemed to twitch with nervous energy. His uniform was pressed to perfection, and he stood at attention even when speaking. "Roland McAdams, sir. I have a question regarding our operating procedures."

Namek blinked, pushing his glasses up again. “Go ahead.”

“When coordinating the fleet’s speed and heading for these rendezvous points,” McAdams began, his voice stiff and formal, “what limits will we be observing in terms of acceleration and deceleration forces? Specifically, how many g’s will be permitted during these phases?”

Rosco caught a slight smirk from the recruit standing next to McAdams—a woman with short-cropped hair and a relaxed posture. She had her arms crossed, and the gleam in her eye suggested she found McAdams’ intensity amusing.

Namek scratched his head, his expression growing distant as he considered the question. “Good point,” he said finally, his tone casual. “When the crew’s awake, we’ll aim to keep acceleration and deceleration as close as possible to one g. Standard Earth gravity. Nothing too taxing.”

McAdams nodded sharply, though he didn’t relax. “And during cryosleep, sir?”

“We can ramp it up when everyone’s asleep,” Namek replied. “Maximum of ten g’s during those phases. Won’t bother the crew while they’re out. Keeps the journey within the target time frame.”

“Understood, sir,” McAdams said with an almost robotic nod. He stood even straighter, if that was possible, clearly intent on absorbing every detail.

The woman next to him finally spoke up, her voice laced with a casual confidence. “Inez Costa, sir. I’m curious—if the Intelligence Protocols detect an anomaly during one of these high-g phases and wake us up, what happens then? We’re not exactly built to function at ten g’s.”

Namek let out a short chuckle, the sound almost catching Rosco off guard. “Good question, Costa. The Protocols are smart enough to know when you’d be a pancake. If they have to wake us, they’ll automatically adjust the ship’s acceleration or deceleration to levels we can handle beforehand—dropping down to around one g so we don’t end up plastered to the walls.”

Inez smiled. “Good to know we won’t be smeared across the floor in the middle of a crisis.”

McAdams, who had been following this exchange with visible discomfort, raised his hand again. “Sir, wouldn’t reducing acceleration or deceleration in the event of an anomaly create significant deviations in our arrival time? It could affect the entire fleet’s coordination.”

Namek glanced at McAdams, the faintest hint of exasperation in his eyes, though he kept his response even. “Yes, it would, Mr. McAdams. But I’d rather deal with arrival delays than risk us dying out there.”

McAdams flushed slightly but nodded. “Of course, sir.”

Rosco couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of sympathy for the guy. McAdams was clearly earnest and committed to following protocol to the letter, but he had a way of making himself seem painfully rigid in the process.

Namek adjusted his glasses once more and paced a bit, looking out at the crew before continuing. “Now, we’re headed for a small planetary system near the center of the galaxy for our first rally point. That’s 26,800 light years from here. We want to keep our average acceleration and deceleration under seven g’s while making sure ship time stays below five years. We’re aiming for precision here—no mistakes. The calculations for this leg of the journey have already been made by the Protocols, but it’s up to you all to verify them. Double-check everything, make sure it’s airtight.”

Rosco felt a knot tighten in his chest. The distance they were covering—the vastness of the galaxy—suddenly felt more real than it had ever before.

He raised his hand. "Rosco Vern, sir. How long until departure?"

Namek shot him a wry smile, pushing his glasses up again. “In just two short months, Mr. Vern. That’s plenty of time for you to get comfortable with the system, run diagnostics, and familiarize yourselves with every little nuance.”

The room was silent for a moment as the weight of it all settled in. Two months wasn’t a long time to prepare for something so monumental. The other recruits seemed to shift uneasily, a mix of anticipation and dread swirling through the small space.

“Well,” Namek said, abruptly breaking the silence as he moved toward the door, “that’s it for now. Get some rest, everyone. We start work in twelve hours.”

With that, the Chief Calculations Officer left the room, his disheveled appearance doing nothing to undermine the sense of authority he carried. The group of recruits remained still for a moment longer before slowly dispersing, the tension still hanging in the air.

Rosco lingered for a moment, taking in the room and the responsibility that now rested on his shoulders before himself departing.

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